The Forgotten Cottage. Helen Phifer

used to do anything to escape spending time in his company, never complaining about having to work over her finishing time, and she hoped she would never feel that way about going home to Will. She got out of the bath and went downstairs.

      The phone was ringing and she picked it up to hear a breathless Lily. ‘Oh Annie, it’s Tom…he’s collapsed. We’re on our way to the hospital. He’s unconscious.’ She let out a sob.

      ‘Where are they taking him, Lily? Which hospital? We’ll be there soon. He’ll be okay, he’s in the best hands.’

      ‘Westmorland General.’

      ‘We’re on our way, Lily; I promise we won’t be long.’

      Annie hung up and rang Will, who answered on the first ring. ‘Will, your dad’s collapsed; he’s on his way to Westmorland General in an ambulance with Lily.’

      ‘How serious is it, Annie—did Lily say?’

      ‘She doesn’t know; I said we’d be there soon.’

      ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

      ‘I’ll be ready; drive carefully, Will.’

      She got dressed, grabbed her phone and some money then waited on the front doorstep for Will. His BMW turned into the street and she ran down the steps and climbed inside. Will’s normally tanned face looked pale.

      ‘Has she rung back?’

      Annie shook her head. ‘No, but it will take a while for them to get there. If you put your foot down we’ll not be that far behind them. He’ll be okay, Will; he’s like you, made of tough stuff.’

      ‘I hope so, Annie. I’d hate anything to happen to him now, especially before the wedding.’

      Annie blinked back tears. She adored Tom and didn’t know what she would do if the unthinkable happened.

      They drove in silence, Will with his foot to the pedal. The roads weren’t busy and they made it to the hospital in good time. They went to the Accident and Emergency Department, where Lily was standing in the corner, her face pale and her arms wrapped around herself. Will ran over to her and hugged her; she hugged him back. Eventually they separated and Lily threw her arms around Annie.

      ‘Thank you for coming so quickly… I don’t know what to do. One minute he was fine, the next he collapsed on the kitchen floor. I heard a loud crash and thought he’d dropped a plate. I got such a shock to see him lying there.’

      ‘Has anyone spoken to you yet? Did the paramedics have any idea what it was?’

      ‘They said it could have been a stroke or a heart attack… The doctor said he’d come out as soon as possible.’

      Lily burst into tears and Will stepped forward to hug her again. Annie looked at him and once more thanked her lucky stars that she had him, then she turned to go and see if she could find someone to speak to and find out what was happening.

       1^st July 1782

      Betsy Baker listened to her mother groaning from her small bed behind the curtain in the front room and smiled. She did nothing but complain about the weather, the neighbours, what was for tea, what Betsy was doing and on and on. Since she could remember, her mother had liked to use her fists on her; any excuse would result in a clip around the ear. If she didn’t do her chores or was late to come in when she had been playing out, her punishment would be a sly punch in the ribs. Her mother had always been a drinker and how hard she would hit depended on how drunk she was.

      Now that Betsy was much older and dared to hit her back, the punches were few and far between; instead, her mother preferred to use her vicious tongue to lash out at her, but Betsy was almost twenty-one and old enough to leave. If only she had somewhere to go, but her mother kept her there, always playing on her poor health. Betsy wanted a life of her own and a man, she wanted to live somewhere that wasn’t damp and dingy or smelt of stale ale. She wanted to be free to do whatever she pleased with whoever she wanted. Her father had died when she was only five; she missed him, he would sing to her and tell her stories and she knew that he had loved her a lot more than her mother ever had.

      Now, thanks to Betsy, her mother really did have poor health. Several nights ago Betsy had heard talk in the village of a powder called arsenic that could be bought from the chemist. Joss Brown, who lived at the farm not too far away, had been telling the rest of the men in the pub that he had bought some to kill off the rats that were overrunning his hay barns. Betsy worked behind the bar of The Queen’s Head, where the men would gather each evening. Her mother hated her working in a pub but it gave Betsy a chance to get out of the cramped, cold cottage. She had been flirting with Joss for weeks now. She was always quiet around the other men but she liked Joss, or she should say that she liked the big cottage that he lived in with his two sons. It was part of the farm that his mother and father owned. Joss was a widower; his wife had died last year and he had kept to himself ever since, but three times a week he would come into the pub for some ale and conversation. Betsy would do anything to escape from her mother and although she disliked children and did not want to have any herself, she would be able to put up with the horrible things until something or someone better came along.

      This morning she had gone to the chemist and asked for some arsenic powder to kill the rats which had suddenly appeared in their house. The chemist had handed some over to her and told her to be very careful with it and she was. She had taken it straight home and put it into an old tin at the back of the larder, after first sprinkling some into her mother’s broth. She thought that life would be much easier without her. Not half an hour later her mother had begun to complain of terrible stomach pain and feeling ill. She had taken to her bed and lay there all afternoon, moaning and groaning. Betsy had taken her a cup of tea with even more of the powder in and then left to go to the pub. Her mother had begged her to call the doctor and she had said she would go and fetch him, but she had no intention of doing that. She wanted to leave her to it while she went to work, hoping that by the time she came home the woman would be dead and then she would call the doctor.

      As Betsy was walking through the front door of the pub she walked into Joss, who was on his way out.

      ‘Sorry, Joss, I’m running late. I never saw you there. Are you leaving so soon? It’s only early.’

      ‘Good evening, Betsy. It’s been a grand day, hasn’t it?’

      Betsy nodded in agreement; if her mother was dead when she went home it would indeed be a grand day.

      ‘Yes, Joss, it has been a wonderful day. Why don’t you come back inside for one more drink—I like to see you and who will I speak to all night if you go home now?’

      She could see the redness creeping up his cheeks and he was looking at her as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time. He noticed her long black hair, ice-blue eyes and her ample bosom.

      ‘I want to come back in, I really do, but my father isn’t well and I said I would milk the cows and take my boys back home. They’re up at the farm with my mother.’

      Betsy reached out and let her fingers brush along his bare arm. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Joss. I hope he is better by the morning and then you can come back and talk to me tomorrow night. That is, if you would want to?’

      Joss shivered at her touch and she smiled.

      ‘I’ll be here waiting for you. Do not forget that, Joss Brown.’

      She turned away from him and entered the pub but she felt his eyes behind her. He was standing watching her until she let the heavy wooden door shut and he could no longer see her. Betsy was having a grand old day. If everything went to plan, Joss would call round to offer his assistance, she could cry and tell him she couldn’t bear to live in her cold, damp house, which still smelt of death. She hoped he would offer her a room at his cottage in exchange for some cooking and cleaning. Then she would work on him until he was besotted with her and ask for her hand in marriage.

      The pub was busy and Betsy worked hard all evening. Old Jack Thomas would not